


The Poisoner

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before 'The Night Of The Doctor', the Sisterhood's newest novice stumbles across an intruder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Poisoner

**Author's Note:**

> One explanation for where the Shalka Doctor's timeline came from, and why he looked like that.

As a humble novice, Oswalda had only the vaguest idea of what had been occupying the senior members of the Sisterhood for so many days and weeks. All she knew was that they had been meeting in the caverns deep below the Sanctuary, caverns said to have been built by a vanished race in an age beyond memory. Such subterranean areas were, obviously, strictly forbidden to a mere novice, and in the normal course of events Oswalda wouldn't have been anywhere near here. It was the purest coincidence that she'd somehow mistaken the route to the scriptorium, fallen into a forgotten shaft, and ended up here. 

A very fortunate coincidence, too, it seemed. 

Peering through a narrow crack in the rocks, Oswalda could see that somehow an intruder had penetrated this most secret place. He was a man, or had the form of one, tall and pale. His clothes and headdress were of a style unfamiliar to her, black as night. 

Before she could be noticed, Oswalda hastily drew back into the shadows and kept watch. In the centre of the cave, half a dozen goblets had been carefully placed on a flat-topped rock. Now, in the flickering torchlight she could see the man rearranging them, exchanging them for one another apparently at random. Then, from an inner pocket, he drew out a small, translucent globe no larger than a pea, and dropped it into the chalice that now took pride of place at the centre. Clasping his hands, he chuckled, a sound that called to mind ice creaking in winter. 

Oswalda held her breath. If he should turn around, he could not fail to see her. She'd have to run for it, and hope to lose him in the caves; strange as his costume looked, it was manifestly more suited to running than her own robes. 

But instead of turning, he vanished into thin air, his laughter echoing around the empty cave for a moment. 

Unknowingly guided by a fragment of Clara's consciousness, Oswalda hurried into the cave, and set about undoing the intruder's sabotage. _This_ goblet was the one into which he'd dropped that suspicious extra ingredient; _That_ was the one that had been set over the sign of the Lady Ohila herself... 

"The pellet with the poison's in the vessel with the pestle," she found herself muttering, though she knew not why. "The chalice from the palace has the brew that is true."


End file.
